A new life
by Lulu1997
Summary: Tony, Michelle, Sid, Cassie, Jal, Maxxie, Anwar and Sketch have all moved away from Bristol to start a new life. They're all ready to take on an exciting new adventure apart - but something unexpected brings them back together.
1. I miss you

Chapter one

Tony stepped off the train and onto the platform. A sign above him said 'Cardiff Central' and something in Welsh. He smiled; he was here at last. He made his way across the platform and outside into the warm July air. The sun shone through the wispy clouds in the fresh golden sky and through the translucent broad green leaves and made a little pattern on the grey concrete of the pavement. Tony looked around and found the name of the little street. He took his phone out of his trouser pocket and located where he was on Google Earth. From what he could see, he was about ten minutes' walk from his hotel. As he walked down the narrow path, he thought of Michelle; she was still in Bristol with Anwar until the summer turned. Poor Anwar! His results had surprised everyone; there was no way he was getting into university with two E's and an ungraded! Still, Tony was okay, he had three A's and a B, which was considered clever anywhere. Tony thought back to yesterday's funeral. He hadn't been Chris' best friend but he was still his mate and he had been Jal's boyfriend. Thinking of Jal made him miss Bristol: his friends, his home, his parents, Michelle, but most of all Effy. How was she going to cope? She would be attending Roundview in September, and she was clever, like him, but she was still little, she was still sixteen. Tony closed his eyes to try to imagine her face again, but a second later he smacked into something hard and cold. Tony's eyes opened.

'For pity's sake, watch where you're going!' A lady with a small dog shouted at him.

'Sorry.' Tony murmured.

'Bloody fool!' The woman muttered.

Tony noticed her English accent. He hooked his thumbs into his pocket and continued down the street…

Michelle's eyes flickered open. Light flooded into the room, through the white netted curtains. Her first thought was, of course, Tony. He was gone. He had left last night, at four. He would be there now, it was eleven. She pulled the white linen of her and slid her legs off of the bed. Grabbing a towel, she slipped into her new en suite. She turned on the shower and yawned. Today would be a good day, she told herself. She would go into town, buy herself some new pyjamas (she needed them desperately) and then give Tony a call at his hotel. She massaged the remaining shampoo out of her hair and stepped out of the shower. She wrapped her towel around her and opened her bedroom door. Her phone was vibrating like crazy on her mantelpiece and when she answered it she felt a rush of excitement as she heard Tony's voice in the other end.

'Hey there, nips.'

'Tony!' She cried, 'Are you okay? Did everything go alright? What's the hotel like? How's Cardiff?'

'Jeez, Michelle, calm down, I'm fine, and Cardiff is nice.' Tony chuckled.

'I miss you.' Michelle whispered…

Sid yawned. It was six a.m. in New York City, but he could still here the bustle of people in the streets below him. He had already been out the night before searching for her. No such luck. He buried his head into his pillow. His hand slipped down his boxers and onto his ding-a-ling. He began masturbating and was really getting into it, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

He hesitated. 'Er – hang on a sec!" he yelled. He slipped out of bed and pulled an old pair of jeans on. He snatched his glasses up off of the old shelf and ruffled his greasy brown hair. Sid stumbled across the room and pulled the door open. An old woman with grey, matted hair stood with her hands on her hips. She was wearing nothing but an old white see-through bra and a leopard-skin thong. Sid blinked and shuffled his feet nervously; he felt a flush of colour come to his face.

'Now, I am trying to get some sex outta my husband and all I hear is you playin' with your monkey up here. Now, I don't mind men masturbating, but when you do it don't do it somewhere I can hear ya!'…

Cassie stared into the bathroom mirror. She was naked and she was thinking of Sid, back in Bristol, somewhere she had promised herself she would never go back to. Her snow-white hands caressed the flat of her stomach and she sighed hungrily. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and turned on the sink tap. She splashed cool water onto her face, and then dried it on a mouldy towel, which had something that looked a bit like shit on it. She walked into the kitchen, next door and put the kettle on. Then she set about making breakfast. She cracked an egg into a pan and pushed slices of bacon onto a grill tray, which she then put into the oven. She popped bread into the toaster and turned the egg over. Eric liked his well-cooked. She stared out of the window at the grey block of flats opposite. They were just as boring as the block she was in. The sun was up already and so was New York City. Multitudes of people weaved through the streets and yellow taxis sped onwards towards Manhattan – or whatever – Cassie still hadn't figured New York out yet.

Sliding his breakfast onto a plate, Cassie made her way into her bedroom. Eric was still asleep. She stared at him for a while, her head cocked to the side a little.

'Eric?'

No answer. 'Eric, I've brought you breakfast. It's morning.'

Eric sat up in bed, stretching.

'Cassie, love. Thanks.' He reached out and took the plate from her.

She climbed into bed with him. He had finished in five minutes. Wiping the remaining egg white from his beard, he reached over and cupped one of Cassie's boobs. She was used to this by now. He reached down and kissed her and she felt his bristles stroke her cheek. She sighed for the second time that morning, as he slid his body over hers…

Jal picked up her clarinet and began to play. The music was soft at first and reminded her of Chris, but like Chris, after a while became wild. She played for six minutes solid, then lowered the mouthpiece from her lips and marched out of the room.

She sat down on a blue chair in the hall way. It was decorated with portraits of famous musicians: Mozart, Beethoven and Mendelssohn. Her phone started ringing and she was surprised to find it was Sketch. She answered the call and pressed the phone to her ear.

'It's me, Jal. Sketch.' Said the delicate Welsh voice.

'Hey there, Sketch. How are you?'

'I'm fine, thank you. I was wondering…could I come over?'

'Er, well, I'm at a clarinet competition at the moment. I'll be back at two. You can come over then.'

'Thanks, bye.'

Jal ended the call.

'Jalander, isn't it?' the man said, 'Come in.'…

Sketch wiped her tears onto her fleece. She still couldn't believe Anwar had gone with Maxxie and James. She had loved him – or so he'd thought. But that didn't matter – she had been closer to Maxxie that way. She hated life at the moment: her Mum, Anwar, Roundview, everything. Except Maxxie. She could never hate Maxxie. She remembered the times when Maxxie was all she could ever thing about. She was absolutely infatuated. She remembered masturbating on his bed – and the awful moment when he came in and found her red hairclip. Sketch wasn't weird – she was lonely and vulnerable.

'Lucy!' Sketch's Mum yelled.

'Coming, Mum!'

Sketch walked into her Mum's room. Her crippled Mother had depended on Sketch since – well - since a long time. Sketch took her Mum to the toilet.

'Lucy, could you make me some toast. I'm starving.'

On the way out of the bathroom, Sketch picked up her phone. She would try one more time…

Maxxie was asleep. Anwar closed the door softly and headed back to his room. He checked his phone. Seventeen missed calls from Sketch. And a message.

'Anwar,' the soft Welsh voice whispered, 'Where are you?'

Then there was silence. Anwar closed his eyes. He was in London with Maxxie and James. He never thought that he would live in London with two gay flat mates. His homophobia had eased down a little. He was ravenous. He stumbled over to the fridge. There was nothing to eat. Pulling out a slice of old pizza from the night before, he switched on the television. In the corner of the room, his phone was vibrating. But he didn't hear it.

'Anwar?' A voice said behind him. He turned and gasped…


	2. New boy

It was Jal. Anwar put the slice of pizza down and switched the television off. He surged forwards and wrapped his arms around her.

'Hey Jal. What are you doing here?'

His stupid monkey face made Jal laugh inside.

'I was at a competition just down the road…thought I'd pop in and see you. It's all in London, isn't it?' She laughed.

'Erm, I guess, so this is my flat.'

'Ver-ay posh' Jal lied. 'Erm…where's Maxxie?'

'He's asleep. I'll just…um…hang on.'

Anwar crept down the hallway and pushed Maxxie's door open. Maxxie had his arm slung across James' bare chest, he was fast asleep.

'Maxxie, er, Maxxie, mate. Jal's here.'

Maxxie opened his eyes and stuck his head just above the duvet.

'Coming.'

Anwar waited five minutes for Maxxie, and after an awkward silence for a minute or two, Jal had suggested Anwar make her a cup of tea. Jal was strong, he thought. She had to cope with the death of Chris all the time but she still got through. She even aborted Chris' baby. Anwar shuddered. Maxxie emerged from his room, his blond hair tousled at the back and his feet bare.

'Maxxie.' Jal said.

'Hey, Jal, wassup?'

Jal explained why she was in London. After a minute James came through into the living room. Anwar handed them all a cup of tea.

'Ah, where's the beer, mate?' James asked.

'I'm Muslim.' Anwar half lied. Jal frowned at him.

'I thought you drank anyway!' Jal knew he was lying.

'Nah – I stopped. Kinda like being sensible, huh?'

...

Sketch was waiting at the bus stop: it was quarter to two and Jal would be expecting her soon. The bus swerved round a corner, and she got on.

Jal wasn't in. Sketch had asked her brothers but they said she was 'off playing in some musical thingy'. That wasn't like Jal, she thought. And she really needed someone to talk to. She was sure Jal nearly always kept to the time.

Sketch thought it would be a bit of a waste of bus fare to go back home, and her Mum wasn't expecting her for another two hours; she may as well go into town. Sketch walked past the old pub on the corner: she could see a man with a stale grey beard leering at young blonde women on the bar. Sketch hated the way some men treated women: like objects, nothing more.

Sketch was half way into town, when she spotted a head of brown, silky curls: Michelle. Ducking behind the nearest garbage can, she peeked out to watch. Michelle wasn't doing anything unusual. She was sitting on a low wall, and she looked gorgeous, as usual. She had a mini skirt on strappy sandals and Sketch saw at least four different men look somewhere near that hard-to-look-away-from cleavage. Anwar had once said that Michelle was awfully self-conscious about her breasts, Tony had always teased her and called her 'Nips'. Another example of the disgusting way men treated women. She knew Michelle didn't like her, but Sketch felt hot jealousy build up inside her like a volcano.

Suddenly, a young man appeared around the corner of a nearby building. Sketch blinked as the man approached Michelle. He was tall and handsome and had wavy brown hair that swept just over his forehead and blue twinkly eyes like sapphires, winking in sunlight.

…

Jal hopped off of the train. It was approaching eleven at night and she was exhausted. She had spent the entire day, after the music competition, at Maxxie and Anwar's flat. Jal walked home and found a note stuck to her door. It read:

Jal,

The mates and me are down the pub at the mo. Some weirdo girl came looking for you earlier today. Said her names' Lucy.

'Fuck,' Jal muttered. She'd forgotten all about Sketch. Sketch was a bitch, though. She had stalked Maxxie and she had made Michelle vomit repeatedly after giving her some stupid pills. Jal wasn't as naïve as the rest – she never really drank, had never smoked and certainly never tried pills or weed. Jal had to put up with her brother coming home five days a week drunk and weed-sodden. He was normally totally out of it. Jal made her way upstairs, brushed her teeth and, almost immediately after pulling the duvet over her slim body, fell sound asleep.

…

Cassie was doing her rounds at the café. It was nearly six and she was exhausted. The last time she had eaten was yesterday evening. Serving up hot chocolates to hungry New-Yorkers didn't exactly help.

Eric and her weren't lovers – not in that sense. They had a sort if pact between them – Cassie slept with Eric in order to pay her flat rent. She shared the flat with Eric, but she couldn't pay her rent. Her only job was one at a run-of-the-mill shitty café. Dressed in an old white apron she sped over to a table with a man and three children.

'Can I help you?'

'Sure,' the man answered, 'Er, a cappuccino and three hot chocolates, please.'

'I want a donut with chocolate on.' One of the girls said.

'Now, now.' Their father said, but he let the girl order it anyway.

It reminded Cassie of the days when Cassie used to go out with her Dad to a restaurant. He was so tight on money he usually would only allow her to get a starter. Cassie closed her eyes. Thinking of her parents back in Bristol made her sad; and sort of mad too – Cassie's parents hadn't exactly helped with the eating disorder thing.

'Daddy, that girl, is she anorexic?' the little girl asked.

She clearly thought Cassie was out of earshot. Too bad Cassie had heard.

…

Sid made his way out onto the dusty streets of New York. Skyscrapers loomed ominously above him and he was reminded of his first day at Roundview.

Taking a picture of Cassie out of his wallet, he pulled his hat on. Cassie, she was so beautiful. She had long, blonde hair and warm brown eyes. She was perfect, with her long white legs and elegant waist. She didn't think so. Sid sighed. He wondered whether she would ever get over it.

By eight p.m., Sid was fed up. He had been searching for two hours straight, yawning; he made his way into an old run down café just off the sidewalk. Sid ordered a latte from the pretty waitress. Out the back, a thin blonde girl was getting into a yellow taxi – he had missed her again.

…

Michelle flopped onto her bed. A dusty odour filled her room, and she realised Harry had probably been going through her make up again. On her phone was a message from Dan and Jal. Dan's asked her what she was wearing for the wedding the next week, and Jal's told her to meet her in Topshop the next day at one p.m. Michelle was tired. If Dan really cared he'd come in and ask her. And Jal could wait – Michelle had to find out what was going on with Sid.

Michelle closed her eyes and fell asleep dreaming of him. She dreamt that he had found Cassie, but Cassie was dead on the street. Her heart filled with anguish, Sid was distraught. Michelle woke up fifteen minutes later, only to find Dan in the room staring at her, with his flies undone.

…

Tony was downstairs in the bar. He had had a pretty uneventful day. He'd got to the hotel okay – unpacked and called Michelle. Tony had explored Cardiff for a bit and finally headed back to the hotel. There he had met Ralph, a guy who was also English, studying at Cardiff. At two in the morning the guys decided to go back to their rooms and said goodnight to each other. As Tony, turned off the light for the night, his final thought was Michelle.

**Lucy Upton**


End file.
